Dashed and Dotted Lines
by kdc22045
Summary: Jane's mysteriously stabbed, leaving Daria to deal with the fact that she might lose the most important person in her life. How DOES Daria deal with it, and who is Jane's assailant?


Dashed and Dotted Lines - By kdc22045 and pyrimxxx

Rating: PG-13 (Adult Themes, Language, Violence)

Category: Daria/Jane slash. Drama.

Feedback: kdc22045@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: MTV sucks, but they own Daria. To sue us would be like trying to get blood from a stone.

Author's Notes: This fic deals with violence, sex, and relationships with a member of the same sex. If any of this offends you, you probably shouldn't read this. It's a sad, yet revealing fic.

Special Notes (kdc22045):  I'd really like to profusely thank Pyrimxxx for all his help and input into this story.  Without him, this story would have died a long time ago. 

(Pyrimxxx): This story began with a wonderful idea from kdc22045, and without her it never would have become a reality. I'd like to thank her for letting me play a part in its creation.

Summary: Jane's mysteriously stabbed, leaving Daria to deal with the fact that she might lose the most important person in her life. How DOES Daria deal with it, and who is Jane's assailant? 

******************

-[Boston, 2004]-

Well, here I am, 20 years old now. I'm halfway through college, and I'm out on my own, experiencing freedom and the responsibilities that go along with adult life. Right now I'm sitting in Boston Memorial Hospital, room 751 at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday night. It's late November, and I'm doing something I've never done before in my entire life. I'm praying. I feel so exhausted right now that I'm amazed I can come up with the energy to do even that, much less think of anything else... 

I look over wearily and stare at the oh-so-familiar face that lies there. I can't help but I flashback to that horrible moment. I opened up our front door and there was blood was everywhere. The apartment was in shambles. I glance over, then close my eyes. The sound of the ventilator pumping life into Janes' body lulls me. I am so drained right now. The cops have questioned me already, as well as speaking with everyone else in our building. There is no one else to talk to, no more tears to shed.

|...Later...|

"Ms. Morgendorffer?", a deep voice rumbled. I opened my eyes and turned to look. I recognized the man as the head doctor in the trauma ward. 

"Please...call me Daria," I respond, stealing a quick glance at the clock in the room. I feel slightly more refreshed and less frazzled. I must have dozed off for about two hours.

"Daria..." He started, searching for what he was going to say next. "Daria, Jane's condition is very grave at this point." I sat up a little straighter in the armchair I had fallen asleep in, and prepared for the worst. He continued. "The knife punctured her aorta, and almost got her left lung. She's going to be on a life support for quite a while.  I don't want to make any promises, but I think she'll pull through with a little luck." I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw, anguish and hope flowing through me all at once. Seconds later I nodded that I understood what he was saying to me.

"Was her family notified?" I asked, using my unbreakable no-nonsense voice.

"Her brother Trent was notified. The police are trying to contact her mother and father," He said, jotting down the numbers on the monitors above Jane's bed onto a chart. He paused for a moment or two before he addressed me again. "Daria...I'm curious. Are you and Jane related?" I momentarily froze. I was expecting him to ask this eventually.

"No sir," I said, allowing my lips to curl into a rarely seen smile. "We're lovers."

_____________

-[Lawndale, 2002]-

Several days after my graduation from Lawndale High, I found myself at Jane's. I was going to spend the night, so I laid my bag down on her bed and prepared for an evening of sarcasm and Sick Sad World re-runs. What I got instead was something that would change my life.

"Daria..." Jane said, standing up from her perch on the floor. A second later she sat on the bed next to me. "In light of our recent release from Hell, I feel there is something I must confess." Her tone was empty of sarcasm, which surprised me. It contained a mix of fear, shame, and nervousness. This was going to be something big...and scary.

"Ok..." I responded. Jane's slender artist hands grabbed mine. Her palms were sweaty and her face flushed. Whatever she was going to say, she had my attention. 

"Daria...we've been friends for a while now. We've been through a lot. We'll be living close by each other for the next year, at least. This isn't easy to say, but here it goes. Daria...I'm in love with you." 

Holy shit. 

I had waited an eternity to hear those words...

_____________

-[Boston, 2004]-

I snapped out of my daydream and looked over to Jane's peaceful looking form next to me. I smiled, remembering that night in vivid color. I admitted that I had fallen in love with her too. I told her I had loved her since I met her. After those words were uttered, there was no more talking. There was only desire and lust.

We had explored every inch of each other, and she taught me things I never knew about my own body. We made sweet, slow, passionate love that night - bringing each other to the edge and beyond several times. I remember looking over to the clock, which displayed 5:30 a.m. Afterwards, we lay in Jane's bed, my head cuddled between her breasts, basking in the pre-dawn light that sifted down into her room. It had been a night of discovery, unleashed desire, and revelations. No regrets. 

______________

-[Lawndale, 2002]-

Jane rested her head on my shoulder and sighed contently. I looked over at her alarm clock and kissed her forehead.

"It's 5:30," I said, yawning. Even as she seemed to contemplate this I could tell she dismissed the fact as her hand slipped down by body and into the crease of my backside. We lay there in silence for a while more before she spoke, her other hand caressing my stomach.

"Have you decided what you're going to tell your family?" she asked. I froze. I hadn't thought of my family's involvement in this. I looked away from her, and she knew I was put off by her question. "You know...I already spoke to my parents. They support us 100%."

"Well, I really don't know. I'm not really sure how my parents feel about these sort of things, but I can pretty well guess that Quinn won't exactly be the leader of our support cavalry," I said, letting out a big sigh. Jane was silent for a moment. I could tell she was contemplating what I just told her.

"Why do they have to know at all?" She asked. "We'll be headed off to college in a couple of weeks, and I'm glad we've decided to get a place together. So even if shit does go down, I think we'll be ok. As long as we have each other, I think we'll be ok..."

______________

-[Boston, 2004]-

Her words echoed through my mind as I walked over to Jane's hospital bed, and I allowed myself a few tears. The salty liquid dropped from my cheek and landed on Jane's hand, the same one that I still held firm in my grasp. What if she never wakes up? What if I could never hold her in my arms again, or kiss her sweet lips again? Never again tell her how much I love her? The past two years with her have been phenomenal, and I don't really think I could live without her. My family knows about us now, and, surprisingly, my parents were supportive. Quinn naturally threw a fit and asked that the subject not be discussed in front of her. Ever. I didn't really expect any other reaction.

I again looked at the clock and closed my eyes when there was a sudden knock on the door. Whoever it was didn't wait for a response, and the door opened. A dark figure stood in the doorway, and I could immediately tell that it was Trent. He didn't move for a while, just stood there, looking at the bed with a blank expression.

"Trent?" I asked, slowly standing up. He didn't acknowledge me right away, and his face took on a terrible pallor. I slowly approached him and helped him sit down. His eyes locked on Jane and never left her. 10 minutes later, he finally spoke to me.

"Daria," He asked, his voice shaky, "What happened?" He surveyed all the lines and tubes that came from under the blanket that covered his baby sister. He looked like he was going to be sick. 

"Trent, Jane was attacked at our apartment on campus last night, around 8 is what the police think. Stabbed in the chest. It nicked a major artery, and she had surgery about 10:30 last night. The doctor says she's stable, but that it's too early to tell anything," I said, watching as Trent closed his eyes. He looked so shook up that I wonder if they should have let him in here like this.

"Who did this?" he whispered, a tear rolling down his right cheek.

"I don't know, Trent. I came home around 9 and found her like his. The police are investigating." I explained, hoping to assuage him but not knowing what else to say. It worked to some degree; He stopped shaking and rose to his feet.

"I gotta get a hold of the rest of my family. Thanks, Daria," He said, leaving the room and closing the door behind him. I sighed. I have a feeling this is going to tear Trent up even more than the rest of her family or even myself. He's going to feel responsible for his baby sister being harmed. I sighed. I can't help him, much less help myself right now. I curled back up in the chair with my head resting on the side of Jane's bed and closed my eyes, hoping at least a little bit more sleep might to come to me. 

______________

I woke up with a start, breathing heavily. I lifted my head from Jane's bed and again stretched in the chair. The clock read 5:30 am. I stood and gave Jane a quick peck on the cheek. I needed to get out of this room; perhaps I'd go to the cafeteria and get some coffee. I grabbed my backpack and stopped by the nurses' station to let Jane's nurse know where I was headed. She nodded and told me where the cafeteria was.

I headed back up to Jane's room an hour later, feeling revived after drinking a cafe mocha. I walked in to find Trent asleep in the chair I was in earlier. I decided to let him have some time alone. I left a note letting him know that I went back to the apartment to see if the police would let me pick up some clothes.

I walked outside and bundled my jacket. It had got colder since yesterday, and there was more snow on the ground than I remembered. The walk to the hospital wasn't far, only a couple of blocks. I approached the apartment in the same pre-dawn light that Jane and I basked in during our first night together. I sighed. I was about a block away from the apartment when something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. Something shiny. I shrugged, figuring it was a broken beer bottle from a frat party. Suddenly, I heard feet shuffle behind me and I was knocked to the ground. I gasped in shock and pain as something sharp entered my back, twice. My attacker ran away in front of my field of vision, but it was too dark and I was in too much shock to make out any details before I passed out...

|...2 Days later...|

I slowly opened my eyes and looked around. I was in the hospital, I knew that for sure. I had no idea what had happened, but my back hurt. I wasn't on a respirator, but an oxygen mask had snuggly been placed over my nose and mouth, and the room was quiet. All this inactivity seemed to conflict with the machines I was hooked up to, because they suddenly started beeping and making all kinds of noises. Not more than a minute later, a nurse came barreling in. 

"Oh honey, you're awake!" The nurse said, silencing all the noisy machines. "How are you feeling?" I was very groggy and my throat hurt, but I managed to talk.

"My back is killing me. What happened?" I asked, in a rather rough sounding voice. The nurse frowned in concern, like I was supposed to not be talking like that. 

"Well, you were attacked," She explained. "Stabbed 2 times in the back, once in the left kidney and once in the right shoulder blade. Tell me, do you know your name?" 

"Daria Marie Morgendorffer," I answered, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "Why's my throat so sore? And what about Jane?" The nurse picked up my chart and browsed through something.

"Well, Ms. Morgendorffer, we had to remove your left kidney, and to do so, we had to intubate you temporarily for the surgery. That's why your throat's sore," She said, matter-of-factly. "As for 'Jane', I'm not sure who you mean."

"Jane Anne Lane, she's the patient in room 751," I said, hoping that she would know whom I was talking about. "She's, um, my girlfriend." The nurse stared at me for a moment before shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, but I'd have to call up to the 7th floor nursing station to find out," She said, writing something down in my chart. I sighed and closed my eyes. "Oh, your family was here earlier. They'll be back soon to see you." And with that, she departed. I managed to sink further down into the bed. Great.

|...3 hours later...|

My parents had come to visit me, as the nurse promised, sans Quinn. I didn't really expect anything else. Dad had brought me a stuffed rabbit. It was a little childish, but cute and I appreciated the gesture. Mom, of course, was babbling on her cell phone, which she was asked to turn off many times by the staff. I'm surprised she didn't get kicked out of the hospital.

"So, kiddo. How are you feeling?" Dad asked, his usual oblivious self. How did he expect me to feel?

"My back hurts, but my throats stopped burning, finally. Other than that, I'm just peachy," I said, yawning. "Say, would you guys mind doing me a favor?" Mom immediately came to my side.

"What can we do, Daria?" She asked, taking my left hand into her own. Dad stood next to her, looking obedient, as usual.

"Can you guys check on Jane for me and let me know how she is?" I asked.

"Oh, yes Daria. Of course," Mom said.

"Anything, kiddo!" Dad chorused. Well, at least I would find out how Jane was.

They came back 30 minutes later to report that Jane was still on the respirator and still hadn't woken up yet.

|...4 days later...|

I had been laying in the hospital bed, feeling miserable, listlessly flipping through channels on the TV.  The past four days as the resident of room 1114 hadn't proven productive, and my patience was wearing thin.  I looked over with disgust at the tray of food I had been left for lunch; there was no way in hell I was eating that shit.  With a small sigh, I stared up at the ceiling and thought about Jane, wondering how she was faring.  I wasn't given long to ponder this, for there was a frantic knock on the door and Trent came barging in, a ridiculous grin on his face.

"Daria!  You won't believe this...Janey's awake!" he said, in a manner that seemed entirely to fast to be Trent.  The moment his words sunk in, my world froze.  I felt like a ton of ice had washed over my body from the pure rush of emotion. It took me a few seconds to snap out of it, and when I did, I jumped up, grabbed my robe (didn't want my rear end on display to everyone due to the oh-so modest hospital smock), grabbed my IV pole, and was already hauling ass to Jane's room 3 floors down.  It came as no surprise that the floor nurses (and Trent) were yelling after me to come back, but at this point, I didn't care.  

I reached the door to her room, 751, and paused with my hand on the doorknob.  How would she feel after being down for so long under sedatives and the burden of her pain?  What could I say to her?  Could I keep myself from breaking down when I finally got to talk to her, to tell her I loved her?  I sighed mentally and slowly opened the door. Not knowing what to expect, I looked to the bed and my heart swelled when two familiar bright blue eyes looked back at me.  I ambled quickly to the bedside and took the thin, nimble artist's hand that was offered to me.  I choked back a sob and swiped at the tears that were forming with my free hand when she spoke to me, barely audible through what I imagined was a very sore throat.

"Its about time you came to visit," Jane wisped, a feeble smile on her lips.  At that point, I wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed with her and cuddle all her pain away.  The artist in her then took notice of my robe and IV pole and looked at it quizzically.  I wasn't even sure if I should tell her what happened to me, considering that she had been a lot worse off than I.  In the end, I decided that she deserved to know.

"Stabbed twice, lost a kidney I didn't really need to begin with," I muttered, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.  She squeezed my hand tightly and I sat down in the chair next to the bed that I had spent so much time in. Jane would say a few words here and there, her voice scratchy and sometimes inaudible, and I would solemnly answer her questions ("Who did it?" "I don't know."  "How are you?" "Worried to death about you."). For the most part, the 2 hours I spent there were in silence. Jane simply wasn't able to do much talking, and the time around her attack had become a blank spot in her mind. I think we both felt better not saying anything, and just clutched at each other's hands.  

I hadn't seen Trent since he burst into my room, nor had I seen a nurse, so I assumed that they sensed we needed some much-deserved privacy.  When Jane's eyes drooped and she began to nod off I leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek.  She momentarily stirred and smiled over at me before she fell back asleep again.  When I heard her snoring softly, I slowly stood and walked to the door, IV pole in tow.  I turned and looked once more at the person who had captivated me since the first day I met her, and then stepped into the hallway. I slowly paddled back up to my room on the 11th floor.  I reached my bed without too much difficulty, and decided to lie down.  It proved hard to sleep, as my mind kept churning over bitter memories of the past I hoped to never remember again...

______________

-[Boston, 2003]-

"Dammit Daria, why are you acting like this, why do you ALWAYS act like this when I get a new friend?" Jane asked, defeat already ringing in her voice.  "Do you honestly trust me that little to believe that I can't hang out with her without anything happening between us?"  I was determined to end this conversation here and now, to preserve my own sanity.  I couldn't bear to have her stand there in front of me with such a look of hurt in her eyes.

"Why did it have to be HER, Jane?! Why!?... Maybe you should just go," I snarled, locking my slitted brown eyes with her piercing blue ones.  She seemed shocked for a moment at my sudden turn of demeanor, but recovered enough to recoil back with a biting response that felt like a slap to the face.

"You know what, I will," she barked.  "For good.  I won't stand here and let you dictate to me who I can associate with and I definitely don't need your jealousy.  We've been together for over a year, and I have never once told you that you can't hang out with anyone, no matter how I feel about the person. But every time I make a new friend, especially if it's a girl, you get really, really mean.  Grow up and lose your insecurities, Daria."  Her words stung painfully, but I still managed to get the usual last word, albeit with the sting of held back tears in my eyes.

"Just...go," I croaked.  The last stab through my heart that night was her leaving, with no hesitation or remorse.  She picked up her bag, and just like that it seemed she was out the door and out of my life.  To say that I really fucked things up that night was an understatement.  I had completely disconnected from the one person who kept my life flowing.  She was my life support, and I had pulled the plug with my jealousy and bitter words.

______________

-[Boston, 2004]-

I had fallen asleep and had been dozing fitfully for only three hours when a loud crash announced someone entering the room.  I groggily put on my glasses and a panicked looking Trent came into focus.  Even through the blanket of darkness in the room, I could see that he was shaking pretty badly.  Something wasn't right.

"Trent?" I said, sitting up a little more in bed.  He stumbled over to my bedside and sat heavily in the chair nearby.  He still hadn't said anything to explain his intrusion; he only sat there with his head in his hands, shaking so badly I thought he might fall out of the chair.  It was a few minutes until he spoke, and I barely heard him through his hands when he did finally say something.

"She's gone, Daria," Trent sobbed, now clutching at his hair mercilessly.  "Jane died 20 minutes ago."  The fog of sleep instantly lifted and I was very aware of my heart being ripped out of my chest.  Everything went cold and my body went numb.  I gasped a few times and felt my tears splash in torrents down my face.  It wasn't long before my body was racked with sobs, much like Trent.

"It was terrible, Daria," Trent whispered after a while, this time looking at me with his tear-streaked faced.  "I walked into the room to find it full with doctors and nurses.  Janey was laying there in agony, choking back sobs and saying that her chest hurt badly.  The nurses gave her all kinds of medicines and the doctors kept poking and prodding at her.  When she finally saw me in the corner, a tear rolled down her eye and she said..," Trent then tried to swipe some of the tears from his eyes, "..she said 'Oh god Trent, it hurts'.  No one really noticed me in the corner, so I stayed where I was, so Janey could see I was there.  One of the doctors said something about a 'pulmonary embolism' and everyone then started running around, getting more things."  Trent paused here to run his hands through his hair and let out an anguished cry.  

"They had to put the tube down her throat again, because her breathing was getting real shaky.  I stood in the corner for 10 minutes before the machines she was hooked up to started beeping constantly and the doctors and nurses went into a frenzy."  Trent had to take a deep breath and compose himself to continue with this story.  His voice was little more than a whisper when he went on, and I had to strain myself to hear him.  "They cut her chest open, Daria.  My god…there was so much blood everywhere.  It pooled on the floor, it stained the sheets and blankets, and the blood was everywhere, Daria.  The doctors and nurses who were running around the room had tracked it everywhere, I couldn't stop looking at it."  He seemed to be done with the horrific story, and I was still numb with shock and pain.  I wasn't sure whether I was going to throw up or pass out, but somehow I managed to stay conscious when I saw Jane's blood on Trent's shoes.

|...1 week later...|

I got to leave the hospital a week after Jane died, bruised, broken, and alone.  The pain of losing Jane was only significantly dulled by the mass of drugs pumped through my veins to help my sore and painful back.  I had, in all honesty, become a zombie this past week.  I can't even remember if I ate anything during the remainder of my hospital stay.  I was heartbroken when I couldn't go to Jane's viewing or funeral due to my condition, but perhaps it was for the best, now that I think about it.  I would completely lose it if I saw her in that casket.  I still don't think I'm quite ready to accept that she's gone.  

I walked into the apartment, mentally preparing myself for the worst.  What if the apartment was still crusted in her blood?  What would I do when I went into our bedroom and she wasn't there, waiting for me?  What would I do if I lie down in the bed and the sheets still smelled of her, of us?  Needless to say, what I saw when the door swung open shocked me.  There wasn't an ounce of her blood anywhere, and everything seemed in order.  The walls were wiped clean, the floors had been cleaned, and the debris that had been scattered around had been picked up or disposed of.  The only odd thing was a note placed on the dining room table for me to see, which I wearily picked up.

-----------------

Daria:

Your father and I cleaned up a bit for you.  Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything at all.  You will heal, but it will take time.

Love,

Mom

-----------------

I put the note down and sat heavily on one of the dining room chairs, with my head cradled in my hands.  I didn't move for a while until a knock at the door startled me.  I got up as quickly as my ailing back would allow and cautiously opened the door to find Trent standing there.  I was taken aback by his appearance and it was a sad sight to see him like this.  He had jammed a hat on (I guessed he hadn't showered since Jane's funeral), his clothes were filthy, and he reeked of alcohol.  I wondered if I should have even let him into the apartment like this, but he's probably as lonely as I am right now.

"Hey Daria," he slurred, stumbling into the apartment.  I closed the door behind him and then turned to face him.  "I came to get some of Janey's things and take them back to....wherever."  I still hadn't said anything, but pointed to the back bedroom.  I still wasn't ready to go back there yet, so I perched on the couch and had been staring at the blank TV for about 10 minutes when Trent came back out with a box of stuff.  "Hey Daria, you want a beer?" He asked, pulling a dented can of Pabst's Blue Ribbon from his pocket.  I shook my head in declination and looked down to see a pile of wadded up bills and loose change on the floor next to his feet.

"Er, no thanks Trent.  I think you dropped something on the floor though," I offered, pointing to the ratty looking wad of money.  Trent slowly looked down and scooped up the money and change, roughly shoving it back in his pocket.  

"Thanks, Daria," He slurred, coming over to sit by me on the couch.  "I don't really have much money coming in now.  I just don't really feel like playing gigs anymore…might be selling my guitar. Been sleeping in my van. Couple of times I passed out on the street. I don't want to ever go back to that house again."  My eyebrows shot up at the revelation he was going to pawn his guitar. I thought I'd never see the day when Trent Lane gave up music.

"What about your parents, Trent?  Don't they help you with money?"  I asked, finding it odd that his parents would let him go on like this.  I apparently hit a nerve with this question, because it took him a few moments to answer me, and his voice was filled with pain and venom when he did.

"Those fuckers didn't even come to her funeral.  They can rot in hell," He spat, taking a long swig from his beer.  My mouth dropped and my eyes flew open.  I knew the Lane family was pretty laid back, but this was kind of extreme.  "It would be just like my family to not show and make me go through this alone," Trent said, in a rather defeated and hoarse voice.  What the hell was I supposed to say to him?  No wonder he was so distraught.  He had to be the sole family member at his baby sister's funeral.

"Trent, you know I'm here for you," I said, grabbing his free hand and giving it a squeeze. "I won't let you go through this alone. I'm sorry I couldn't get out of the hospital in time to be there with you at her funeral." He averted his eyes down and nodded.  He didn't move or say anything for at least ten minutes, but when he looked back up at me, there seemed to be something…distant in his eyes.  Without warning, he whispered "I miss you, Janey!", latched on to me tightly, and before I knew it, he had pressed his lips to mine. His breath reeked of cheap beer and it took all my strength to push him off me.

"I thought you..?" He slurred, unable to complete his thought. Tears ran down his cheeks.  I didn't know if he called me Jane because he was drunk, or if he had just finally cracked under all the pressure he was experiencing due to his sisters death. He was definitely scaring me, though.  His breathing was heavy and his pupils of his half closed eyes were dilated. It took a minute to get my own breathing under control.

"Trent, do you know that you just called me "Jane"?... You need to leave...," I said, rather shakily.  The spaced-out look on his face disappeared and he came back to reality. He seemed to take hold of what had unfolded, and looked just as shocked as I was.

"Daria…I'm so sorry! I didn't realize I called you..." He mumbled, his eyes wide and bloodshot, "I just miss her so much..I don't want you to get the wrong idea.."  I looked away and shook my head.

"Just go, Trent," I said, barely audible through my anguish.  He didn't say anything else, but instead stood up, almost fell over, and picked up the lone box of Jane's stuff he'd managed to gather. I heard him crying as he solemnly walked out the door.

|...4 hours later...|

I still hadn't moved in the 4 hours since Trent left.  Losing Jane was tearing me apart from the inside, but I vowed to be strong.  I had to go back into that bedroom and face my fears, and my future without her.  I slowly stood (my back was hurting badly now, since I hadn't taken my pain medicine in quite awhile) and padded to the bedroom that was once ours.  I peeked through the door and sighed.  It looked so empty in there now.  I pushed the door open more and slowly crossed the threshold of the room.  I looked around and saw that some of Jane's things were scattered around on the floor. I guessed it was from when Trent was going through her belongings.

I walked around to Jane's side of the bed and smiled when I saw a box of her art supplies. I had put the lid of the plastic box back on and pushed it under the bed when my hand came in contact with something else. I pulled out a small red photo album that I had never seen before.  Curiosity got the best of me and I flipped back the front flap to reveal a picture of Jane and I on our one-year anniversary.  I smiled at the memory of that night.  Jane had taken me to one of the nicest restaurants in Boston and we made love all night, and again had basked in the pre dawn light of early morning.  I sighed, flipped the page to the next picture, and about jumped up with shock when the full impact of the picture I was looking at hit me: a picture of Quinn sitting on Jane's lap, Jane's head nuzzled in Quinn's neck.  I looked at the date stamp on the bottom; it was taken 5 months after Jane and I had broken up last year for awhile. I thought Jane had gotten rid of all mementos from her period with Quinn, at my request. There were others, too. Some were of the two of them at the zoo, others were of Quinn posing nude for one of Jane's paintings. I found many, many more though of Jane and I hanging out with friends, feeding each other sundaes, and sitting on the steps of the art museum together. For a moment I felt betrayed; Jane had lied to me when she said she had gotten rid of all the things from the time she and Quinn were together. Then everything seemed to come into place, and my anger vanished. I realized that there was something I needed to do...

_______________

-[1 Day Later]- 

A sharp knock on my door awoke me from my drug-induced sleep. I knew who it was. I had called Quinn late last night and demanded she drive down and talk to me. At first she refused, but when I threatened to tell Mom and Dad about the "thing" she had with Jane last year, she reluctantly agreed to visit.

I hobbled over to the door, my back throbbing as usual nowadays, and opened it. Quinn was standing there in a new leather trench coat, with a charcoal tinted hat on her head I'm sure she thought was adorable.

"Come in," I said, and she walked into the living room without once looking at me.

"I hope this is important, Daria," she said in clipped tones, "I was supposed to meet up with Sandi this afternoon. You know she got a job as a junior fashion editor at Waif magazine." Despite the light topic of Quinn's conversation, she seemed unusually flustered.

"I wanted to talk to you about...this," I said, walking up to her and pulling the picture of her and Jane out of my vest pocket. I handed it to her slowly.

"Oh...that," she said. "Look Daria I'm really sorry about what happened to your friend but I don't think this really has anything at all to do with..."

"'YOUR' friend?!," I interrupted, "I thought you and Jane had gotten pretty close as well last year?"

"Are you accusing me of doing something to Jane, Daria??", Quinn was almost screaming, "Because I don't think you have any right to say.." She suddenly became very pale and took a step backwards. She had realized what a mistake she had made.

"I didn't accuse you of anything like that, Quinn." I stated, giving her a hard stare through slitted eyes. I could feel rage building up in me, and my back had stopped hurting. "But, where were you the night Jane was attacked, anyway? In fact, where were you when I was attacked?" My voice had descended into a low growl.

Quinn almost staggered. She looked as if she were going to be sick, and when she finally spoke it came out as a whisper.

"I didn't mean to do it.", she said, "I came over one night while you were out just to talk to her and when she opened the door I could tell she wasn't even happy to see me. She used to buy me things and take me out to nice places and...and I wanted to see if I could get her back from you." These last words came from Quinn's lips like a hiss.

"But she wouldn't take me back or even listen to me or anything. She turned her back on me and told me to get out and not come back ever. I started to walk out when I saw a knife lying in the kitchen. I grabbed it and ran back in the living room and I...I...". She looked more frightened then I had ever seen her, and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. The same hands that had taken away the only person I had ever truly loved.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, either, Daria," she continued, her voice quaking, " I came by that morning to talk to you..just to talk..but when I saw you walking past I knew that you had just been with her and I...took out my nail file and I...", her voice suddenly rose into a wild scream, "IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME WITH HER!! I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!! I DONT CARE WHO KNOWS WHAT I DID!! I HATE YOU DARIA!! I'VE ALWAYS HATED YOU AND I'M GLAD JANES DEAD AND I WISH YOU WOULD HAVE DIED, TOO!!"

At this point something very strange happened. Rage flooded through me and I felt stronger than I had ever felt in my life. The pain in my back had completely vanished and the haziness of the medication washed out of my mind. Without a word I stepped forward and wrapped both hands around Quinns neck, lifting her completely off the ground. She made a gurgling sound of protest as I slammed her down onto the floor with a loud crash, landing on top of her chest. My hands, still tightly wrapped around her throat, began to squeeze of their own accord. It was like I was outside of my body, looking down at the sight of me strangling my own sister.

"...Stop...!!" Quinn managed to gasp, her fists feebly beating against my arms. I growled and squeezed even harder, feeling Quinn's windpipe collapse from the pressure. The blood vessels in her eyes then burst, turning the whites a dark red. After a few more moments she stopped struggling and I staggered back off of her lifeless body. I had come back to myself.

     _______________

And that's my story. I sit here now on the floor of the apartment I had once shared with the sweetest person I had ever known. I can hear someone beating on the door and calling out "Ms. Morgendorffer?!, Ms. Morgendorffer?!". It's the building supervisor. He must have heard the commotion. My back is hurting again more than ever, and all I can do is sit quietly and stare down at my hands...

----THE END----


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